Ava Mack

Lobster Complex

“Well, if God doesn’t exist, who’s laughing at us?”
-Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Here’s the thing about my savior complex,
I’m done wasting it on men.
I’ve decided that’s above my pay grade
God knows there’s no fixing them.

My holy fire light of righteousness rather
wholly is reserved
for the gruesome supermarket sea tank where
the sacrificial lobsters are preserved

with the ingenuity of cruelty
man has mastered oh so well
conscientiously kept alive just to die
in the boiling pot of hell.

Every time I pass their tank,
I think today might be the day
I break their chains of rubber bands
their sins of deliciousness in full repay.

Yes, today might be the day
I pay the exorbitant price
and become the savior of the lobsters
their crustacean Jesus Christ.

Lugging a dozen buckets to the sea
in a nautical Stations of the Cross
I’ll undo the capture and the crime
right the wrong, replace what’s lost.

A valiant gesture, yes, and done in vain
the lobsters surely will be lured back again
their claws condemned to a buttered roll
their wingèd souls sent up to Heaven

but maybe one will get away,
and one is all you need
to spread the gospel of the lobster savior
and Her selfless, daring deed.

Ava Mack (she/her) is a Boston-based poet and writer. She is currently the 2023 Poetry Fellow at The Writers’ Room of Boston. Women, memory, and political speech are foundational to her work. She holds a BA and MA in political science from Boston University where she graduated summa cum laude.